


Ten Minutes

by Jules1980



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid
Genre: A/U Fix it Fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18793978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jules1980/pseuds/Jules1980
Summary: Ten minutes can change your life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.

Ten minutes.  That’s all it took.  Ten minutes to possibly take another life.  No, not possibly. He’d done it. No way Diaz could have survived that fall.  Damn. Why couldn’t it have been him? He hit that rail about ten times and never went over.  How could this have happened? Ten minutes before he’d been in class, remembering why he’d dropped out of school in the first place, then suddenly, he was a murderer.

How does that happen?  One minute his life finally had a future.  One that didn’t lead to prison. Sam had forgiven him for the lie about the medal.  He was back in school and determined to stick it out. His dad had driven him to school and bought him school supplies.  They had even talked about him living with his Dad to keep going to West Valley, even after his mom got out of rehab. 

Then it was all gone.  Over that rail. And he was a murderer.  He never meant for that to happen. He guessed that didn’t matter when someone was dead, though. 

Sam had looked at him like he was a monster.   

He’d ran.  He didn’t know what else to do.  Everything was closing in on him and he ran.  He ran as far and as fast as he could. Ignoring the pain in his chest, the feeling he couldn’t breathe well.  He ran out of the school and kept going until he fell. 

He didn’t know how far away he was as he laid there on grass still wet from someone’s sprinkler system, drag in huge gulps of air.  His chest was engulfed in excruciating amounts of pain with each one, but he couldn’t seem to slow them down or make them smaller, his need for oxygen greater than the burning pain.  Besides, he deserved it. At least he was still alive to feel pain.

He laid there until his breathing slowed, the pain in his chest had lessened to a stabbing pain, and he was afraid the homeowner was going to come out and see why a vagrant was sleeping on their lawn.  Steeling himself, he made it to his feet. Walking slowly, he made his way down Reseda Boulevard until he could cut between two buildings to walk through the alleys. He was sure the police were looking for him.  He thought he should go to the police station and turn himself in. And he would. He just had to know how bad Miguel was first. He had to know what he was in for before he threw himself to the wolves. He had to be prepared.

He wandered around for what seemed like hours before finding a bus station bench and dropping down on it to decide what to do.  He couldn’t go home. Hell, he didn’t even know if he still had a home. He’d, at the very least, seriously injured, if not killed Johnny’s star student and ‘better son’.  Shannon was in rehab and their apartment had already been rented out to a new family. 

He sighed and forced himself to look around.  He wasn’t sure how far he’d gone. Or even how long it had been.  He’d lost his phone at some point during the fight. Not that it mattered.  Who was he going to call?

As he looked around, he had a vague sense of knowing the area.  It was the feeling that things were different but somehow the same.  He found himself staring at the playground across the way. A ghost of a memory danced through his mind.  Playing on a playground like that. One where everything was in good shape, and they had those black mats instead of trampled down grass.  He tried to remember.

_ A swing.  A cup of juice.  A little girl with black braided pigtails who would shake or nod her head extra hard to make the bows at the ends bounce.  A blonde boy playing on the swing next to him. The girl threw her juice at him. No. Not at him. At the boy next to him who was sticking his tongue out.  But maybe four-year-olds didn’t have the best sense of aim, because it was his white shirt that had a bright red stain blooming over it. _

_ His lower lip started to tremble.  He’d been so careful not to get dirty.  Not to be bad. Now Daddy was going to be mad at him and Mama was going to be mad at Daddy and now he was never going to get to come back here again.  He wanted to shout. He wanted to hit the boy and push the little girl down. Didn’t they know how much trouble this was going to cause? Mama was never going to let Daddy take him overnight again. _

_ Before he could do either, she was there.  A pretty lady with long black hair and red lips that were turned up in a smile. _

_ “It’s okay, Robby,” she smiled, lifting him out of the swing and up for a cuddle, seemingly uncaring that her yellow dress was going to get red juice on it.  “We will go back to the church and I’ll get you all cleaned up.” She hugged him tightly. She scolded the other two children gently and told the boy to be sure to hold tight to his sister’s hand.  Robby put his arms around her neck. She smelt nice. Like cinnamon rolls. The real ones at the bakery that Daddy took him to sometimes. She didn’t smell like cigarettes and grown-up drinks. She had even told Daddy that he’d been a good boy and it wasn’t his fault his shirt was ruined.  He didn’t know why she was being so nice to him. He didn’t understand it. She wasn’t like the giggly ladies who were nice to him as long as Daddy was smiling at them. She was just nice. _

_ “Why are you helping me?” His curiosity got the better of him as she was helping change his shirt and clean the one, he’d been wearing.  That was good. Mama wouldn’t be mad at Daddy then. He might get to come back.  _

_ “Because that’s what we do here.  We try to help people who need it,” she replied. _

_ “So, if I need help, I can come here?” His voice lilting up in that childish way. _

_ She had knelt down in front of him and smiled, “Robby, you can always come here, or to Mr. Bobby and me, no matter what.  You don’t have to need help to visit us, but yes. If you need help, you can come here and we will do what we can.” Then she leaned in and kissed him, leaving a red lipstick print on his cheek. _

Robby shook his head and looked away from the playground.  He knew now that it wasn’t that easy. That had been a very simple explanation of what a church was, but still, the Pastor and his wife had been friends of his Dad.  Maybe they could help him. He knew he was going to have to turn himself in, but maybe they could find out how bad it was before he did. And they couldn’t turn him in, could they?  Churches can’t do that right? 

Without much more of a plan, he got up and started walking again.  He wasn’t sure he could even find the church. Maybe that wasn’t even the same playground.  But if it was, then the church was just a few blocks away. It hadn’t been too long after that, that his Dad had started seeing some woman and Mom had cut off his visits, telling him that Dad had wanted his girlfriend more than him.  Whatever. Mom was sick. In some way, he’d always known that. It was just easier to deny when she wasn’t willing to talk about it. When some guy was paying the bills. When she wasn’t sitting on the LaRusso’s sofa telling him she needed to go to rehab.  He was so lost in his own thoughts that he’d walk past the doors without even realizing. The plain entrance looked like any other business on that strip.

He backtracked and opened the door.  The blast of the air condition was a shock to his system and he shivered slightly as he caught sight of his reflection in a decorative mirror on the far wall.  He was bruised and bloody. He looked like a murderer. Which he probably was. This was a bad idea. He turned to leave when he heard someone behind him.

“Can I help you?” 

He turned around to see a tall, dark-haired man in a nice suit standing behind him.  This definitely wasn’t his dad’s friend. This man was way too young and had too much hair.  Of course, they weren’t here anymore. Didn’t Pastors move around a lot?

“Can I help you?” The man repeated.

“Um…, I’m looking for…,” Damnit!  He couldn’t remember their name. What was it?  Her name…, it was…, the only thing he could remember was giggling about someone being named Soapy.   But surely no one was really named Soapy. He’d give anything to be able to remember their last name.  This guy was going to think he was nuts, but what other choice did he have? He looked at the floor and mumbled, “Soapy.”

“Did you say ‘Soapy’?”  The man asked, looking angry.  

Well, this was great.  Anger wasn’t a reaction he’d been prepared for.  Shock, laughing, mocking, getting thrown out, sure.  But this guy looked like he was going to deck him. Robby flinched back without realizing it.  “Yes.”

The man huffed and folded his arms across his chest, rolling his eyes.  “Follow me.” He practically barked. 

Robby nearly bolted.  He wasn’t sure why he was following the young man.  This didn’t seem like it was going to end well for him.  Still, what else could he do? Go back outside and wander around until the police found him or he collapsed again?  He dared to glance around as the man led him through a chapel, then to a long hallway on the other side. He stopped at the far end of the hall and opened the door.

“Dad,” he said, arms still folded across his chest.  “We have a visitor.”

Robby saw the older man drop his pen on the desk and cover his face with a heavy hand.  “Not another parent. What is the point of a text alarm system if none of the parents are going to pay attention to them?  I’ve sent out four messages that the school riot was at West Valley. No one at the school here is hurt.” He shook his head.

“No.  Not a parent,” the other man replied, stepping into the office and motioning for Robby to follow him, shutting the door behind him and standing in front of it, blocking his exit.  “Looks like Soapy has been LARP-ing ‘How to Catch a Predator’ again. Can we call the cops on this one?”

“No, Brandon,” Bobby sighed, looking at the beaten and bloody boy in front of him.  “This isn’t Sophie’s mess. This one is here for me. Have a seat, Robby.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Bobby got up and walked around the desk, as he looked Robby over. "Go get me a first aid kit," he said to Brandon.

"But, Dad…,"

"Go," Bobby insisted, "I know what I'm doing.”

"Yeah, you always think you know," Brandon snapped, but he did leave the room.

Bobby studied the boy. He was bruised and his nose was bloodied, and judging while the by the way he was holding his side, he probably had some broken ribs to go with those busted knuckles.

"You were in the riot," Bobby said.

"I was the riot," Robby admitted. Now wasn't the time to bullshit. "Part of it anyway.”

"Johnny said you dropped out of school.”

  
"I was trying to go back. I was trying..., I should have known better.” He looked like he was about to break down, so Bobby changed his line of questioning.

"What happened?"

"There was a party last weekend," he sighed. "My girlfriend..., she kissed this other guy, and his girlfriend saw it. She came to school looking for revenge..., I just tried to stop them. I couldn't just watch her hurt Sam. Miguel misunderstood, thought I was attacking Tory and he attacked me. Then all hell broke loose. Oh, sorry." He covered his mouth.

"It's okay. It’s a church, after all,” Bobby smiled. "We talk about Hell all the time."

That brought a ghost of a smile to the boy's lips. "Right."

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

"Come in."

"Hey, Dad," Sophie came into the room carrying a first aid kit. "Bran says you need this?"

“Why aren't you in class?" he asked in reply.

"I am. I'm an office assistant. Bran burst in like ten minutes ago and told me to bring you the first aid kit," she shrugged.

"Wait," Bobby stopped her, momentarily forgetting the battered and bruised boy sitting in his office. "You have homeroom, study hall, choir, and then you're an office assistant?"

"Yep, pretty sweet schedule, huh?" she grinned.

"Just so I know, are you taking any classes require books, and pencils, and you know, homework?" he asked.

"I tried not to," she replied, then rolled her eyes, seeing his cross look. "I have AP Chemistry, AP English, Geometry, and California history. Are those good enough?"

"We'll talk about it again later," he replied, taking the kit from her. "Go back to class."

"Yes, sir." she turned around to leave, really seeing Robby for the first time. She gasped, taking a step back. Bobby gently pushed her towards the office door. She had seen enough people in this office in crisis so often that she knew not to comment, but the boy looked so young and scared. She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way and not patronizing.

Bobby cleaned Robby's cuts and wrapped his ribs. At least karate had taught him something useful, if only in cleaning up the injuries afterward. He found a shirt Tyler had left in the office, so Robby didn't have to sit around in wet clothes. Getting sick with broken ribs would be torture.

"I'm just curious," Bobby said, not wanting to dive back into the whys and hows now that Robby was finally calmed down. "What made you think to come here?" Johnny hadn't brought the kid around since he was a preschooler. He was surprised he had even remembered the place.

"It's silly," Robby admitted, deciding again that it was best to answer. Irritating the only person willing to help him at the moment didn't seem like a good idea. “I remembered your wife saying that people could come here for help."

"That sounds like April," Bobby smiled softly. "So, why did you ask for Soapy then?”

"It was the only name I could remember," he shrugged. “I didn't even think it was really a name."

"It's actually not. My daughter’s name is Sophie, but when she was born, her brother couldn't say it. It always came out as 'Soapy’ and it just kind of stuck. However, only close friends and family call her that, so you can see why my oldest son was upset that you asked for her by that name," he explained.

Robby nodded again. That made a little more sense, though he thought the police comment was a little harsh without knowing the situation. He was a criminal, maybe even a murderer but the stern younger man hadn't known that. He could have been a victim for all he knew.

"I'm going to try to call Johnny," Bobby said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Don't bother," he muttered. "He won't care. The one who was hurt, who I hurt, is his favorite student. His good and better son.”

“Hey! Don't ever say that," Bobby scolded him. "I know that Johnny hasn't been the best Dad and that you two don't have a good relationship, but he hasn't replaced you. He loves you more than you will ever know.”

"Try calling him then," he replied, folding his arms over his chest.

And of course, this would be the time Johnny didn't answer. Bobby swore under his breath.

"You don't want me to call your Dad, then what do you want me to do?"

Robby was silent for a long moment before speaking quietly, "I want to know how badly I hurt Miguel. I'll turn myself in once I know what I'm facing. Can you find that out for me?"

“I can try,” he agreed with a nod.

* * *

  
Two hours later, Bobby was no closer to finding out about the Diaz boy or finding Johnny. He wasn’t going to throw in the towel, though.

“Hey, Bobby, got a minute?” Jimmy tapped on the door lightly.

"I was going to call you," Bobby answered. "Let's talk in the hall." He stood up and walked toward the door. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked Robby.

He nodded, looking even more miserable than before if that was possible.

“I'll be right back," he tried to assure him but didn't think he was successful.

"I wanted to get in touch with the kids who go to West Valley," Jimmy said. "I thought we could have a youth meeting tonight for those that wanted to come."

"Yeah, we might have a problem with that," he admitted.

"Why?"

"One of the boys responsible for the brawl is in my office," he stated.

"Oh, no," Jimmy groaned. "Since one is in the hospital with a broken neck and may never walk again, I'm assuming it’s the other. Why, Bobby? The police are looking for him.”

“It's Robby Keene."

Jimmy looked at him blankly.

"It's Robby. Johnny's Robby."

"Oh, God,” Jimmy groaned again. "I knew I knew that name. What are we going to do?"

"He wants to know how badly the other boy is hurt. He says that he'll turn himself in once he knows how bad it is. But I don't think we should let him do that until I can find Johnny. He doesn't need to be alone when he turns himself in."

"I agree," Jimmy said. "Okay, I'll head back to work and see what exactly I can find out about the Diaz boy's condition and what that means for Robby. Keep trying to find Johnny. We can have a youth meeting tomorrow."

"Okay," Bobby nodded. "If I don't find him soon, I'm going to hunt him down and then you may have to bail us both out of jail.”

“Well, Diaz is still alive,” Bobby reported to Robby going back in the office.

“Oh, thank God,” Robby sobbed. Maybe his dad wouldn’t just throw him away now.

\-------  
It was one of those rare times when Bobby resented his plush office and wonderful secretary at the church. He had been trying to get Johnny on the phone ever since Robby had walked into his office six hours before with no luck and a nice, loud ‘Damnit, Johnny!’ would have done his soul some good. But then his wonderful secretary whose only professional flaw was that she was a bit of a gossip would be calling up the ladies’ auxiliary and telling them how Pastor Brown was so upset he was screaming curses at the poor kid. Of course, he hadn’t told her that the “poor kid” was part of the riot that had had her running all day, assuring parents that their school was just fine. He wouldn’t have been so poor then.

“Dad?” Sophie broke his train of thought

“Yes, Honey?”

“It’s, um, after six. Ty and I were kind of wondering…, we know you’re busy, but we were wondering, okay…, I was wondering if we could go home  
yet?”

Bobby looked at his watch.

Damn.

Had he really been dealing with this for that long?

He looked at Sophie. He hated this as much as she did. This having to guard her and watch her every move. She was the victim, but he was having to treat her like a criminal. But every time he decided to relax and relent, he’d remember what they’d found in that sicko’s car and remember what horrible things could have happened that day if Eric hadn’t run out of clean underwear and came home to do his laundry.

His chest would get tight and he wouldn’t be able to force the words out. Her mother would have known a better way. April always knew a better way than him.

“Yes, Honey,“ he sighed. "Go ask Brandon to come here.”

“Yes, sir.” She left the room.

Robby looked up, unsure where that left him. Bobby didn’t say anything about that yet.

“Hey, Dad? Soapy says you want to see me?“ Brandon said, stepping into the room.

"Can you take Ty and Soapy home and stay with them until I get there?” 

“Where are you going?“

"Well,” Bobby said, looking at Robby. “If I can’t get Johnny here, I’ll take him to Johnny. Come on, son, we’re going to go find your dad.”

* * *

 

Johnny finally stumbled back to his apartment about one in the morning. After leaving the beach, he’d gone looking for Robby. He knew he should have gone as soon as he found out he was missing, but he had to get his head right first.

Robby’s phone was going straight to voicemail. He had been to Shannon’s, even though he knew they’d been evicted. He’d gone to the Larusso’s. He had gone to every skate park, beach, arcade or hole in the wall place he’d ever known his kid to hide out. Hell, he’d even gone to Sid’s, even though the kid barely knew his step-grandfather.

Nothing. He was nowhere. It was like he’d disappeared, must have been how the kid felt all these years.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes had taken both of his boys from him.  He’d spend a lifetime getting them back if he had too.  First thing in the morning, he’d scour the city to find Robby.  Then when Robby was safe, he’d go to the hospital and try to talk to Carmen again. He’d just sat down when he heard a knock on his door. He rushed to open it, hoping it was Carmen or Rosa with good news about Miguel. He wasn’t expecting Bobby.

“Look, Man, now isn’t a good time,” he started.

“No joke,” Bobby interrupted him.  “It’s one in the morning.  Do you think I’m here to shoot the breeze?”  He looked to the side and beckoned someone forward.

“ROBBY!” He pushed Bobby aside to grab his son, pulling him into a crushing hug.  

“Dad! Dad! I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.  I’m sorry. I never meant for that to happen.  I would never,” Robby cried into his chest.

“Shh…, it’s okay, Son.  I got you.  I got you,” Johnny promised.  “I got you. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please Review!


End file.
